Chapter 3 - The Woman On The RooftopSeveral days later, I walked the empty, wasted streets of the old city, barely able to breathe through my filter mask. I'd heard rumors of someone coming out of The Sanctuary, so I was scoping out the situation.
A flicker of movement caught my eye. Something or someone was moving across the rooftops. I instinctively reached for my pistol, which hung at my side, trusty as ever. I followed the movement closely, staying in the shadows. After following the movement for several minutes, it finally came to a stop. Spotting an old fire escape nearby, I climbed up, braced for whatever I might discover. I grasped the rungs, hauling myself up one rung at a time until I reached the roof. In the center of the roof was an array of scientific instruments, buzzing, whirring, and clicking as they measured the environment. Examining the screen was a familiar person. I accidentally hit a rock, which clinked, alerting the person to my presence. The young woman whipped around to face me, confirming my suspicions. The woman's light brown hair was pulled back into a large braid, and her shimmering green eyes were enchanting. She had a narrow face, and her lips were thin. The woman stood barely shorter than I was, and had decently toned muscles. Her eyes went wide as she saw me, and she pulled out a gun I hadn't ever seen before. Pointing the weapon at me, her eyes narrowed at me. By instinct, I pulled my own weapon out and aimed it at her. "Who are you and what are you doing here?" She asked, circling me. "I could ask you the same question," I said calmly. "What's a lovely young woman like you doing all alone out in this toxic air?" "Research." She said, still glaring at me. "What about you." "Well, when I hear a rumor about someone leaving The Sanctuary, I can't help but be curious," I said, smiling confidently. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?" The woman hesitated as if contemplating how much to tell me. "I might know something. What does it matter to you?" "I'm just wondering what someone from The Sanctuary would ever want with the outside world," I said. "After all, they live all safe and comfortable in their little heaven while the rest of the world chokes. Nothing of worth to them out here." "I wouldn't say that's true." The woman said. "Maybe some of them still care about the world. Maybe some want to know the world as it was." "Well that's too bad, isn't it? After all, the world is long past dead." I said grimly. "Now, who will put their weapon away first? You, or me?" "You first." The woman demanded, her hand shaking as she kept her gun trained on me. "I promise I won't shoot." "You promise?" I said. "A fat lot of good that is. Nobody keeps their promises. Ever." "People could surprise you." The woman said. "Now, put the gun away." "Fine," I growled. "You put yours down while I put mine down." "Deal." She said, mimicking me as I slowly placed my pistol back in its holster. "Now, that wasn't so hard, was it?" I said grinning. "My name is Samael Saller. And you are?" "Asha. Asha Farvald."
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Chapter 2 - Sweet Sweet RevengeThe vile, decrepit old man is finally in my grasp. I can taste the sweet flavor of revenge on my lips. The Earth, my parents, and countless others will finally be avenged. The man who is responsible for it all, just on the other side of the glass.
I slide my fingers into the seam of the window, pulling it up. The window slides silently up, masking my presence. I creep into the room, my feet hardly making a sound as I move toward Otto. He looked almost peaceful like he was able to sleep perfectly fine knowing he was responsible for the death of the world. Drawing my pistol from my side, I crept upon Otto, like a tiger stalking its prey. I primed the pistol, sticking it directly against Otto's forehead. The old villain opened his eyes. His eyes widened as he realized what was happening. Otto tried to holler for help, but I covered his mouth. "Silence old man," I growled. "You may as well give in because there is no getting out of this." I took my hand off his mouth. "What do you want?" Otto spat. His voice was old and tired. "Please, I'll give you anything you want. Money, power, anything you want, it's yours!" "All I want is you dead." I hissed. "What did I ever do to you?" Otto asked, bile in his voice. "You took away my family, my world." I roared. "And how would I have done that?" Otto spat. "You didn't care about the world. You kept producing, polluting the world until it was uninhabitable, just to satisfy your greed." I said. "My parents died of lung cancer from the junk you put in the air. The world died and you just sat back, comfortable in your sanctuary. Happy to see it all burn. Billions of people, dead. All thanks to you." "So you must kill me then?" Otto said resignedly. "One life for the entire world. Sounds like a fair price, don't you think?" I said. "I hope you enjoyed your life, Otto, because its time for it to end." "So just do it then boy," Otto said. "I would welcome death. I am old and miserable. It would be a release for me." "Tell the devil I say hi," I said, pulling the trigger. The round echoed through the room. Otto's body crumpled, all tension leaving it. A red mark sat right in the center of his head. Finally, the man responsible for the end of the world is dead. I had succeeded, and it felt so right, yet so wrong. It didn't take long before I could hear footsteps running toward the room. I ran over to the window, hopping out and onto the rooftop. Unslinging the phase board, I drop it in front of me and hop on. The floating board of see-through blue shot off with me on board it. I looked back in through the window as I sped away. A pretty young woman was the first in the room. She had light brown hair and beautiful green eyes. She ran over to where Otto now laid dead, shocked. I almost felt bad for her, although I pitied her more for caring about the worst man to ever live than for anything else. I shot off the roof on my phase board, flying through the air and landing gently on the ground. I went straight for the glass dome. I pointed my gun at the panel right in front of me, firing several rounds into the glass, shattering it. I flew out of The Sanctuary into the smoggy brown open air. I accomplished my mission, sweet sweet revenge. Chapter 1 - A Dying WorldThey should have heeded the warnings. The old rulers of the world even called them out on it. But all they cared about was money, not even worrying about all the millions and millions who would die. The millions who would die just so they could live comfortably in their big, luxurious sanctuaries. The rich will pay.
My name is Samael Saller. I am twenty-five rotations old, and I am one of The Forgotten. We live in the under streets of the cities. I was born and raised here, beneath The Sanctuary, the largest remaining city on Earth. The rich and powerful live above us in their protected dome, safe from the toxic air and burning heat. But they are not protected, they will soon suffer as the rest of the world does. I run through the shadows, staying hidden from sight. My filter mask barely helps with the muddy brown air. I stop, doubling over coughing. I don't know how any life could possibly survive outside in these conditions. I could barely run ten feet without the pollution burning my lungs. It all started fifty years ago. The old rulers of the world, known as the U.N. delivered a warning in the year 2019. They warned the world was getting too warm thanks to pollution. The warning even stated it was the rich who polluted the most. Those of us who had the smallest effect did all we could to stop it, but it was useless, we were only a small part of the problem. And the world died. Forests burned, adding to the carbon in the atmosphere. The world became superheated, melting every piece of ice, even in the coldest places. The oceans expanded, encompassing much of the land. People fled to cities high in the mountains, trying to escape. And so the sanctuaries were created. I am out for revenge. I want to show the rich and powerful just how unsafe they are in their little sanctuaries. I want revenge for the Earth, and for The Forgotten. We are The Forgotten, the people who live in the shadow of the rich and powerful. We suffer daily from the dying Earth, her very air turned against us. I duck into an ally, left behind from the original city infrastructure. I think the city was in a nation called the United States before the governments collapsed. But that didn't matter. Now there is only The Sanctuary, and the under streets. As far as I am concerned, this is it. This is what is left of the world. Sure there are rumors of other sanctuaries, places where even The Forgotten can have pure air. But those are just myths and legends. I search the alleyway for my stashed away supplies. Opening an old dumpster, I find my bag full of equipment. I spent years gathering this stuff. A grappling hook, pistol, knife, and the pride of my collection, a phase board. The phase board would come particularly in handy when I had to run. Equipping myself with the pistol on one side and the knife on the other, I examined the alleyway. According to my research, there was an entrance to The Sanctuary not too far from here. Pulling the grappling hook out, I took aim at the nearest rooftop. Pulling the trigger, the hook went flying, locking securely onto the edge of the roof. I hung on for dear life, the hook retracting, pulling me up slowly. The ground shrunk beneath my feet until I was high enough that I could barely make it out through the smog. Following the instructions I'd been given, I hopped from rooftop to rooftop. It was excruciating, the poisonous air searing my lungs. Finally, I came to the entrance. It was a vent barely large enough for a grown man like me to go through. Right above me was the curved underside of The Sanctuary. The Sanctuary is a massive dome to put it simply. A marvel of engineering, The Sanctuary was miles across, and miles high. A glass dome covered the top, protecting both the pure air and the rich from the outside world. I was going to be one of the first of The Forgotten to enter without permission. I smiled. I couldn't wait to see their smug faces when they saw a Forgotten had somehow penetrated their sanctuary. Worming my way into the vent, I hauled myself up. As I crawled through the cramped vents, I thought of today's target. Otto Farvald. The worst of them all. He was the leader among the wealthy. In fact, he'd owned many of the companies that made them money. I couldn't wait to see him on the ground, begging me for mercy. A light glowed ahead. The end of the ventilation. I looked through the slits in the vent cover. The vents had led me right to the filter room. Kicking the vent off, I dropped to the ground. With any luck, nobody had heard the clatter. Walking to the only door in the room, I peeked out. It was incredible. So much green flooded my eyes. I'd only seen this much green in pictures. The door led into an open courtyard, filled with trees and grass. I took a deep breath in. Pure air. I took my mask off and inhaled again. It was so refreshing. The purest air I'd ever breathed filled my burned lungs. I reminded myself of my mission. Sneaking along the edge of the courtyard, I looked for the biggest building. That was where Otto would be holed up. Weaving through the buildings, I found the most impressive mansion. I used my grappling hook to latch onto the roof. Climbing up, I started across the maze-like rooftop. I'd been told Otto spent most of his time hidden away in his bedroom, which laid at the highest point of his mansion. Sure I'd killed some of the rich before, but never someone like Otto. Never the wealthiest. I'd killed six people who'd been dumb enough to leave the safety of The Sanctuary. It served them right. The lives of the rich for the life of the planet. Justice served. I can see it. Otto's bedroom. Through the glass I can see him, laying peacefully asleep in his bed. Not for long. My target is within my grasp. My name is Samael Saller, and I'm The Forgotten Earth's lawyer. WARNING: May not be suitable for all readers.This story contains themes of suicide and death. If you are not comfortable with such themes, read at your own digression. This final part in particular shows a man killing himself, and involves bloody imagery. You have been warned. Part 3: UnlivedIt was a rather cloudy day when Tristan woke up for the last time. The dark storm clouds brought an even darker mood to his apartment.
"I suppose it's fitting," Tristan muttered to himself. "Cloudy on the day I end it all." Tristan had already arranged his letters to everyone he needed to. He only hoped that they would make the impact he wanted. It was too late for him, but maybe his friends and family could make a difference to somebody else. Tristan started to prepare what would be his final meal. A sweet breakfast of cinnamon rolls, slathered in cream cheese frosting. His favorite. The sweet frosting melted on his tongue, filling his mouth with the sweet flavor. "It's a pity life can't be this sweet." Tristan thought out loud. "Maybe then it would be worth living." The last few months, no, last few years Tristan had been living in a fog. He'd merely survived, going through the daily motions. Wake, eat, work, sleep, repeat. His life had been unfulfilling, not worth living. So, a few weeks ago he'd made the decision to end it all. And now that everything was sorted out, it was finally time. Tristan walked to the bathroom, slowly opening the door. He felt strangely calm, at peace with his decision. He supposed having weeks to brace himself for it allowed him to make peace with it. Tristan didn't particularly believe in an afterlife, but if there was one, he hoped to end up wherever he'd feel the most at peace. Pulling a razorblade off the shelf, Tristan stepped into the bathtub. He sat down, revealing the extremely sharp blade. Tristan held the blade to his arm, his hand shaking. For a moment he hesitated before recommitting himself. The razor-sharp blade pierced his skin, sending spikes of pain up his arm and into the rest of his body. He slowly cut down from top of his forearm to his wrist, opening a gaping bloody wound in his arm. Moving on to the other arm, a symmetrical wound soon appeared on his other arm. Blood rushed from the wounds, surrounding Tristan in a small pool of his own blood. As he bled out in the bathtub, Tristan's life flashed before his eyes. He remembered when he was seven, he got a puppy for his birthday. He'd been so happy to have a pet of his own, Rufus. They'd been inseparable until Rufus grew old and died. Tristan cried for days afterward, missing his best friend, that ever loyal german shepherd. Tristan's mind wove through his childhood. As he thought back on it, maybe his childhood hadn't been as horrible as he'd perceived it to be. His father had worked hard to provide them with a very nice house, and they'd frequently gone on vacation to awesome places. That was until they stopped going places, and the arguing had intensified. As Tristan entered his teenage years, he and his parents stopped getting along and constantly argued. Soon after that, Tristan had met Felix, Henry, and Halia. He'd turned to them as his second family, the ones that wouldn't argue with him over little things. But he never felt like he fit in with them. It was like they were in a league of their own and he was just their ride. In a moment of clarity, Tristan could see how much they really had included him. They would text him out of nowhere and ask if he wanted to go to the mall or go bowling with them. He'd just failed to see the positive because of the drama at home. after they'd graduated, they'd drifted apart, moving on with their lives. After High School, Tristan had gotten a job at a call center. It didn't pay very well, but it kept him in a decent little apartment. There he'd endured days of angry customers, unfriendly coworkers, and a jerk manager. It eventually got into his head, filling it even more with negative thoughts. Voices in his head telling him he wasn't enough, he wasn't worthy of love. Voices telling him he didn't deserve to live. And all of that had led him to this point, all alone, bleeding to death in a tiny little apartment. Tristan snapped out of the memories. Even though he was as good as dead at this point, his mind was clearer than it had been in years. Everything suddenly made sense. He'd always been too worried about what others think. Tristan had put others opinions above his own. He'd been too afraid of what others would think of him to truly live his life. His life had been unlived. He'd failed to appreciate himself, to love himself. He could have done so much more, lived so much more. If only he'd realized sooner that the opinion of others didn't matter, didn't define who he was. "I don't want to go." Tristan whispered as his mind started to slow from blood loss. "I could do so much more! I have so much to live for!" Tristan tried to haul himself out of the bathtub, to find help. But he'd lost too much blood. His arms offered no support, and he collapsed back into the bathtub. He started to cry as the last drops of blood bled from his wounds. If only he could get out of here, find help. He could turn his life around, make it worth living. But it was too late for him. Tristan stared emptily at the ceiling as the final drop of blood dripped from his arm. His last tear rolled down his cheek as his world went black. His life had gone unappreciated, unloved, unlived. WARNING: May not be suitable for all readers.This story contains themes of suicide and death. If you are not comfortable with such themes, read at your own digression. Part 1: Unappreciated"Hey man, have you heard from Tristan recently?" The message popped up on Felix's screen. It was from his old friend Henry. Clicking on the message, Felix drafted his response. "No, I haven't. Why do you ask?" "I was just thinking about our friends," Henry replied. "How come?" "I received this strange note the other day. It told me to gather my friends from high school at a specific date, time, and location. I already talked to Halia. You and Tristan were the last people I hadn't contacted yet." Felix paused a moment before responding. "Are you going to send me the details or not?" "Are you going to come?" Henry asked. "If it works with my schedule, sure thing. I haven't seen any of the old gang in years!" Felix sent his last message. Turning his phone off, he laid back in his recliner. It struck him as odd that Henry brought up the old gang because he'd just been thinking about them. All the good old times back in high school, before they were all scattered by life. Henry's message came through. The details lined up perfectly with Felix's schedule. I guess it's just meant to be. Felix thought. A week later, Felix rolled up to the address, his window down. The other two stood waiting for him. They were gathered around a piece of paper with the large letters written across it. ONLY READ ME WHEN EVERYONE IS HERE Felix got out of his car. Something felt off about this whole scenario. Henry suddenly getting a note telling him to gather his friends, right outside of their old school. The fact that nobody could get a hold of Tristan. It just gave him an unnerving feeling. As he walked up to the group, Henry hailed him. "Hey Felix, I'm glad you made it!" "Yeah, sorry I'm a bit late, traffic was a real pain," Felix said. "Oh, you're all good man. I'm just glad you made it." Henry said. "What's up with the piece of paper?" Felix asked as they joined the rest of the group. "No clue." Halia, Felix's old crush said. "But now that we're all here, we can finally find out." "So read it then," Felix said, gesturing at the piece of paper. Henry flipped the paper over. On the other side was a nicely written letter. They all read it silently. Hello, all of my old friends. It's Tristan. I'm glad that you are all together for at least one more time. It's just too bad that I couldn't be there. Not that any of you noticed my absence anyway. I suppose this is my way of providing all of you with a final sendoff before I leave for good. "Before I leave for good?" Felix whispered. "What's that supposed to mean?" "I have no clue man, just keep reading," Halia said. First of all, I want to know, did any of you really care about me? Did you ever notice when I wasn't there and did you even care when I was? Because I never could tell if I was just that one kid you allowed to stay with you. I never really knew if you cared about me. And that's really too bad because that is ultimately what led to my decision. My decision to kill myself. Felix's heart dropped. This wasn't just any note, it was a suicide note. It was like a horrible accident, one that you wanted to look away from but simply couldn't. The other two let out a gasp as they read. I want all of you to know a few things. I really cared about all of you, I really did. I looked up to all three of you. You were like the older siblings I never had. You each meant the world to me. But why would a world pay attention to a lowly little man like me, right? So I stayed in your shadows, never sure if you even noticed me hanging out with you guys, let alone if you cared about me. I was always just there. Felix wanted to reach through the paper and slap Tristan across the face. He wanted to shake him and scream at him. Tell him how much he'd really meant to him, how much he'd appreciated his company. How much he'd actually cared about Tristan. An image of Tristan popped into Felix's head. His ratty black hair. Brown eyes sunken into his gaunt face. At first, Tristan had been a really happy guy, at least when he was around Felix and the others. Now that Felix thought about it, the only time Tristan had seemed even remotely happy was when he was around Felix and the others. At the time nothing had seemed wrong, but looking back, Tristan had always seemed a bit off, a little sad when he wasn't with the group. Constantly hiding his face in his dark hoodie. It seemed so obvious something was wrong now. He continued reading. So, I lived in your shadows. People called me 'popular' because I hung out with you guys. I never really felt that way. Nobody came up and complimented me like they did to you. No one ever showed their appreciation for the things I did. No one said thank you when I refilled their drinks, or when I would drive them someplace. Now that Felix thought about it, he realized how little he'd actually expressed his gratitude for Tristan. That guy had done practically everything for him, Halia, and Henry. He would drive them everywhere, and get them anything they wanted. But they never told him that they appreciated it. "Thank you," Felix whispered. Tears started to gather in his eyes. Only a little bit of the letter left. So, I want you all to learn a lesson from my death. But first, please understand this, you three are not the sole cause of my death. I simply wanted to teach you a lesson, maybe help you become better from my death. There were many more factors, many more people who helped lead to my decision to take my own life. Don't blame yourselves. To put it simply, life made me feel unappreciated, unloved, so I unlived. All I ask is this: learn from your mistakes. Be kinder to others. Serve people wherever you can. And above all, show your appreciation. Tell others thank you for the things they do for you. And maybe do things for them in turn. Until we meet again in the next world, know I love you all. Love - Tristan, you're loyal friend, even across the grave. Felix stepped back, feeling released from the hold the note held on him. Tears formed in his eyes as he thought about poor, unappreciated Tristan. He grew sweaty, and his chin began to quiver. He replayed the letter over and over again in his mind. His chest grew tight, and he started to itch nervously. All three friends were silent for a moment. A billion questions ran through Felix's head. Why hadn't he ever shown his appreciation to Tristan? Why would Tristan go to this extreme? Had he really failed him so badly as a friend? What more could he have done? Could he have prevented Tristan's suicide? "I can't believe this," Halia said. "I feel so bad. Like I should have done more." "We should have actually told him how much we appreciated him," Henry said quietly. "I want to make a promise with you two, a pact," Felix said, tears starting to stream down his face. "We'll all do our best to actually tell people how much we appreciate them. For Tristan." "For Tristan." the other two agreed. The three of them walked back to their cars. As Felix sat down, he completely broke down. Tears flew out of his eyes, and his heart felt shattered into a billion tiny shards. He wished he could travel back in time and tell Tristan how much he'd meant to him. Only one thought came to his mind. I will always appreciate people from now on. Because I don't want anyone to ever feel unappreciated, unloved, unlived. A Note From The AuthorI hope this story has affected you in a powerful way. There is a reason I ask no money for this story, because I want it to be an agent of change. I make the humble request of you, the reader. Please, share this deep story with those you care about. In addition, please show some verbal appreciation to those in your life, even for the small things. I hope that by showing our appreciation to others, we can help prevent people from committing suicide because they don't feel appreciated. This is the first in what I plan on make a three part short story, and I hope you will stay tuned for the next two parts in the coming weeks. Without further ado, I hope you have enjoyed, and keep on writing.
They say that the dandelion field just outside of town is a magical place. Supposedly you can find all kinds of strange and magical creatures out there if you time it just right. I never believed the people who claimed to have seen such fantastical beasts, until one day I saw them myself.
Just after school, I was coming home when I decided to cut through the dandelion field. As I approached the field of gold, I could hear chanting far off in the distance. As I drew nearer and nearer, the words became clear. Like music to my ears, I could understand what was being said. "Weeds or gifts of gold? A place where two worlds meet Come young, come old, And rest your weary feet!" The voices drew me closer and closer until I could see into the golden flowers of the dandelion field. Flittering all about were fairies, all chanting and singing their strange song. I snuck near to the wondrous little festival, admiring the strange little pixies as they enjoyed themselves. Finally, I was so near that I reached the edge of the woods, where I could nearly reach out and touch the magical little people. Just in front of me was the prettiest little fairy, with golden hair and sky blue wings. I reached out to touch the apparition when the little folk finally noticed me. All of a sudden, in the strangest uproar, the fairy folk charged at me, singing their song like a war cry. The magical little beasts chased me out of the field and back to town until my feet could carry me no more. As I shut my door quickly behind me, I finally stopped to consider what just occurred. Now don't you ever let people tell you there is nothing magical about dandelion field. I know for myself now, whether you choose to believe or not, there is something magical about dandelion field, where worlds meet. Content Warning/Disclaimer: Some content in this short story may not be suitable for some young audiences, including a description of a tarring and feathering. All events in this short story are purely historic fiction, any relation to actual events is purely coincidental.Hunted |
Welcome to The Writers Block!AuthorKen Mears is a new 17 year old author, here to share his wisdom, advice, and experiences with you, the reader! Archives
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